


Just Skin

by ClaraxBarton



Series: Kinktober2019 [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bucky's shit self esteem, Clint's shit self esteem, Established Relationship, Kinktober, M/M, Spanking, Stupid Boys, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 02:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: Bucky teaches Clint a lesson.





	Just Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hawksonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/gifts).

> Now beta read by the Amazing Ro!!!
> 
> (Side note, if you haven't read her freaking awesome fics, do yourself a favor and go read EVERYTHING written by luvsanime02)

“How many is that?” Bucky asked.

“Fiftee-  _ fuck _ \- sixteen,” Clint panted, his entire body rocking with the force of impact as Bucky brought his hand down on Clint’s ass again mid-response.

Bucky paused between hits and let his hand curve over the warm, flushed, firm skin.

Clint’s ass pinked up so easily, his skin bruised so quickly, and he reacted to every hitch of pain and glimmer of pleasure so spectacularly that it made Bucky feel like  _ he _ was the one experiencing it, sometimes.

“Hmm.” Bucky gave Clint’s left ass cheek a considering squeeze. “And do you think that’s enough?”

Clint laughed, voice hoarse and fucked-out, and his shoulders tensed.

He was bent over the dining room table, feet planted wide apart and upper body braced against the sturdy surface, head buried in his crossed forearms and fists clenched. 

He was also completely naked, not bothering to put clothes back on after his shower, and the dampness of his skin was partially sweat, partially moisture clinging to his lean body that hadn’t been dried off.

It was a sight Bucky would probably never get tired of. Certainly not any time before  _ Clint _ got tired of giving himself over to Bucky, in any case.

“Well?” Bucky prompted. He ran a teasing finger between the cleft of Clint’s ass cheeks, and Clint arched back into the touch.

“I, maybe?”

His response made Bucky smirk, even though Clint couldn’t see the expression. 

Clint was almost always honest. Painfully so, and it was a quality Bucky deeply appreciated. 

“So you’ve learned your lesson, then?”

“Yeah, definitely that one,” Clint sighed, and then moaned when Bucky pressed the tip of his finger against the furled ring of muscle between his cheeks. Clint tried to shift his legs further apart, tried to expose himself more.

“Oh? And what lesson exactly  _ did _ you learn?”

“I- Fuck,” Clint groaned as Bucky gently breeched his body, mindful of the lack of prep and lube. Though, his finger encountered so little resistance that it was clear Clint had been very thorough in the shower.

“That was not the lesson,” Bucky chided.

“No, I, I know that. Just, yeah. I- No more calling myself an idiot. I got it. Lesson learned.”

Bucky sighed and slipped his finger free of Clint’s body.

Clint whined in complaint.

“That was  _ not _ the lesson,” Bucky said, and delivered a swift, merciless blow to Clint’s ass.

“Fuck, fuck, I-  _ Fuck _ .”

“Color?” Bucky asked, fairly certain that Clint’s shaking thighs weren’t a sign of acute distress but needing to check in anyway.

“Green,” Clint sighed. “Still green. I just- What the fuck  _ was _ the lesson?” He sounded just the slightest bit petulant, and Bucky had to push down the urge to flip Clint over and kiss him. Clint was probably scowling, pale brows drawn together and lips pressed tight.

“The  _ lesson _ ,” Bucky emphasized each word with a sharp swat, “was to not even  _ think _ of yourself as an idiot. It isn’t just calling yourself that - it’s thinking it at all.”

They were both breathless by the end of that little speech, and Clint’s ass was fever hot.

Bucky was fairly certain there were several spots that would bloom into bruises by morning. Clint would like that. He always complained that Bucky didn’t mark him up enough.

He fit his hand over one of the darker handprints, keeping the touch gentle.

“You’re one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met,” he told Clint. “And I’ve met seventeen presidents and a couple dozen CEOs and politicians and world-renowned scientists.”

Of course, Bucky had met them in the course of  _ killing _ them, but Clint knew that. Bucky didn’t need to say it for the shadow of his own past to be in the room with them. It always was - always would be.

“So,” Bucky gave the spot a gentle, teasing slap that shocked Clint into a breathless laugh, “lesson learned?”

Clint rolled his head enough for Bucky to see his flushed, wet cheeks and glassy eyes. 

“Yeah,” Clint said, and the corner of his mouth ticked up. “I think I’m good.”

“You are,” Bucky assured him. “So good.”

Clint’s smile grew, and he closed his eyes.

Bucky leaned down to kiss his spine, licking at the base of it to taste sweat and heat and  _ Clint _ . 

“Love you,” Clint mumbled, voice so soft, so wrecked, that Bucky almost missed the two words.

But he didn’t miss them. 

He heard them, for the first time, and they cut right through him to that dark, twisted, hollowed spot that Clint and Natalia and Steve seemed to be capable of reaching within him.

He kissed Clint’s back again.

“I love you too,” he said, words unsteady, heartbeat uneasy. 

But Clint kept smiling, and the sight settled Bucky.

It always did.

Always would.

“Stay here,” he commanded. “I’m going to get the lotion.”

“And some pants,” Clint called after him.

“Why? I’m already wearing pants. And you aren’t allowed to put any on for the rest of the night.”

-o-

  
  



End file.
